


We Live Forever, Then We Run

by kirschhhstein



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Multi, and eventual violence (in terms of fist fighting at least), and explicit language i guess, and okay probably drug mentions (mentions at the very least), if this goes any further, more ships and characters will be added as this goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschhhstein/pseuds/kirschhhstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger and his sister have been running away from things for a long time.  Home, the law (only occasionally, and for minor things no one really needs to know about), and most recently they've fled the scene of Mikasa's latest heartbreak.  They escape to a small town, with a tight-knit community that's way more accepting of and dependent on its youths' activites than you'd expect.  Not expecting to stay long, Eren finds himself changing his mind about running further when he stumbles across a cautious blond in the town's only bookstore.  What he expects even less is the shocking (and illegal, most definitely illegal) events that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oh, i've got other things on my mind

**Author's Note:**

> please don't take this too seriously it's completely self-indulgent i'm just trying to enjoy writing for myself again

I _hate_ being hungover. Sometimes I don't know what possesses me to think _yes, vodka skittle bombs sound like a fan-fucking-tastic idea_.  It's not like I have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol anyway.  Unlike Mikasa - she's a fucking tank.

I crack one eye open and immediately shut it.  It's bright.  Too bright for this pounding-head, churning stomach, crusty-eyed shit.  My head's hanging off the shoulder-rest of the driver’s seat, and my ankles are up and crossed against the dashboard, which means my back's gonna be screaming when I finally straighten it out.  I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes and risk opening them again. Still bright.

I squint ahead through the filthy window and quickly realise that we're in a supermarket car park.  A woman who pushes her trolley past the car with a look of disgust on her face.  The kid in the trolley seat points at me and I stick my tongue out at him.  I immediately regret it; I'm dehydrated and my tongue feels like sandpaper in my mouth.

I turn to my left, my neck straining with the effort.  Mikasa's curled up in the passenger seat with her back to me.  I don't feel like reaching over to check if she's sleeping so I call out to her. I say 'call', but I can barely get the words past my dry lips.  I'm too lazy to croak anything but "Nn.. 'Kasa?"

She doesn't stir, which means she's probably awake and ignoring me.  I don't feel ready to talk either.  It's too early in the day.  I manage to raise an arm weakly and push at the buttons on the radio to check the time.  Mute first, 'cause that Aerosmith tape is the last thing I wanna hear right now.  My head's still hanging at an angle, but I can just about make out the faint red digits.   _12:02_.  Definitely too early.

I lie there for another twenty minutes and groan when I finally sit up.  Pain streaks from the side of my neck down my spine.  I grab the empty water bottles and check my pockets for cash before opening the car door and dragging myself out and over towards the water fountain at the entrance to the store.  I spend five minutes drinking from the tap, filling the bottles, taking another drink for myself and dunking my head under the cool stream.  The icy water does me good in this hellish heat.

I glance over at the car and see that Mikasa still hasn't moved.  Sympathy shoots through me, but I know better than to show it.  Instead I go get something I know she'll appreciate.

Five minutes and two rude as fuck store employees later, I return to the car and toss a packaged sandwich in her lap.  "Here.  Stop you from puking."

"I don't get hangovers."

"Shut up, everyone gets hungover."  I offer the water bottle which she snatches from my hand without looking at me.  I get in the car and tear into my own sandwich.  I keep the door open so I can stretch my legs along the ground, my back to Mikasa.  The sandwich tastes terrible and I can barely keep it down, but it was cheap and I need the energy.

"You're dripping on the seat."  I feel a tug on my hair, and turn my head to see Mikasa pulling out a shirt from her bag in the backseat.  I pat the seat and realise it's wet from the water in my hair (oh, that's why the store guy was pissed when he slipped).  I return to the sandwich as Mikasa rubs my head with the shirt.  It smells less familiar than it would if it were mine or Mikasa's.

"Hey, isn't that -?"

"Yes."

"Mikasa -"

"It doesn't matter."

I know it does, but I don't press it.  The ice in her voice suggests that she's still not in the mood to talk about it.  I vaguely remember us waltzing on the hood of the car last night before being flipped on to my back with my ass in the air when I'd suggested - in a fit of drunken stupidity - that we stay here a little longer.  I think she hissed something at me before stalking off to sulk on her own, taking my Jack Daniels with her.  Three guesses for who taught her that kung fu shit move.  I'd actually better check if there's a dent on the hood where my ass hit it.  I'm still kinda pissed about the Jack Daniels thing aswell cause it's expensive shit and I know she doesn't even like the taste of it.  Not that I paid for it, but still.

But I let her towel off my head and convince her to eat some of the sandwich.  She barely wrinkles her nose at the taste, but I can tell she's struggling with it too.  While she finishes it and downs the water, I check we're good for gas and the dent in the hood we made last night didn't damage the engine.  I deduce that it'll probably be fine before getting back in the car and shutting the door.

I turn to my sister who stares back at me with blank eyes.  "Ready?"

She nods.  I throw an arm around her and kiss the side of her head before turning the key in the ignition.

We drive for a few hours.  The roads are pretty quiet, and there's not much to see but empty land and dead grass for miles.  Dry ground's getting dust all over my dad's car.  We stop twice in the middle of nowhere 'cause I still have to piss all the alcohol out of my system.  I can tell we stopped two times more than Mikasa would've liked by the impatient sigh she gives each time.  She must be desparate to put as much space between us and that town as possible.  I can't say I don't feel the same - I won't exactly have fond memories of that shithole either.

Finally a sign appears just after the five hour mark - and it welcomes us to the 'friendly' town of Trost.  It looks less than promising.

"What d'you think?"  I ask Mikasa.  "Worth checking out?"

She shrugs like she doesn't give a shit, which I guess she doesn't.  Though we're fine spending the night in the car, I have no idea how far away the next town is, and we can't park on a road at night in the middle of nowhere.  Turning back isn't an option.  I make the decision for us and follow the sign.  We roll into Trost a few minutes later.  It looks pretty ordinary for a town in this area.  A few shops, nothing too highstreet though.  I spot a coffee shop brand I recognise, but it looks as though there are plenty of independent stores too.  The houses are nice.  Clean looking.  Terrifying.

One other thing I notice is that though the streets are far from empty, I can tell this town has a pretty small population.  That, and all the people I've seen so far are white.

Not that this bothers me.  I try not to make snap judgements or anything, but I've learned to be cautious.  With my sister being Japanese and my own skin a little darker than some others may prefer, I can't rule out the possibility of there being some racist shitheads in this town.  It's happened before.

I glance at Mikasa to see if she's noticed.  She doesn't say anything, but her jaw clenches and she doesn't stop staring out the window - sizing up the town and its inhabitants as we pass them.  I'm not really worried; we can handle ourselves just fine if shit happens.

We're not too deep into town when I figure its time to park and take a walk.  I've barely stopped the engine by the pavement when Mikasa jumps out, slams the car door and takes off in the opposite direction I was planning in heading.

Okaaaay, I guess we'll meet up later.

I take a wander along one of the quieter streets, checking out what's there and fighting the urge to fan myself because it's so goddamn hot.  It's my own fault, wearing black and leather and all.  Then again, it's not like I've got much choice.

Something draws my attention up ahead at the corner.  A guy in a leather cut similar to mine leans against a wall, looking up and down the street.  He seems bored by the way he keeps rolling his head back and staring up at the clear sky.  He has a roundish face and doesn't look much older than sixteen.  His buzzcut doesn't help him out much either.  He seems way out of place, but he's not making me nervous yet.

He yawns, and I wonder if he's itching for something to happen, and if I'm likely to be the trigger for that something.  I've already gotten a few wide-eyed glances and raised eyebrows so far, which is annoying because no one's even looking at this guy.  Though that's maybe something to do with the fact I haven't showered for two days.  That and I lost my toothbrush so I probably still reek of last night's _fuck-off-and-don't-come-back_ party.  Yeah, living on the road's rough.

I'm thinking that though this kid doesn't really look like trouble, it's probably better to avoid a possible confrontation anyway.  I figure I can either turn back the way I came or duck into a shop.  What are my choices?  I glance at the florist store _(Shadis's Sakuras)_ across the road, spot the guy inside and laugh to myself.  Yeah, okay that's not happening.   _That_ dude's a florist?

I squint through the window of the bookstore to my left instead, seeing rows of shelves with stacks of books of every size and colour possible and an untidy counter and - whoa  _whoa_ who is _that?_

_Holy._

A sway of yellow sunshine catches my eye and it takes everything in me not to press my nose up against the glass and stare at the person behind the counter.  So far they haven't noticed me ogling them, too engrossed in flipping through an enormous book with one hand and taking notes with the other.  Long blond hair slips over one shoulder as they tilt their head to stare at a particular page.  Their mouth moves, and I figure they must be thinking aloud cause as far as I can see there's no one else in the store.  Awesome.

I check the guy at the corner isn't looking my way before I make a decision and push open the door to the bookstore and step inside.  There's one of those bells that ring when the door opens, so I draw attention pretty much immediately.  The blond’s eyes flick up, giving me a quick once-over glance before they drop back down to the notepad they're scribbling on.  Now that there are no smudged windows or bookcases in the way, I can see their perfect face clearly.  Their shape is hidden behind the counter though, and a thin floral scarf draped over their chest - which I can tell is more of a fashion thing than a temperature concern, especially in this dry heat.

Their hands are small and delicate looking as they flutter across the paper, and a couple of plain pretty rings decorate their slender fingers.  Pastel pink lenses perch on a button nose, and there's a slight flush to their cheeks that suggests they're feeling the heat as much as I am.

Realising this person is even cuter than I thought, I saunter over to the counter and ready my biggest, flirtiest grin.  I'm still clueless to this kid's gender, and they can't be more than sixteen but I'm going for it anyway.

“Hey. I’m Eren.”

They don’t look up. “So?”

“What?”

“The fact that you’re Eren.  Is that information supposed to mean something to me?”

“Eh…” I gotta admit, I’m kinda at a loss with that.  I’m not necessarily a social guy, but even I know there’s something a bit off with their response.  What a pretty voice though.  “Guess not.  Anyone ever tell you your customer service is kind of off-putting?”

“Yes.  But you’re not a customer.”

“What makes you think that?  I’m in your shop, aren’t I?”

“Because it’s a small town and I don’t recognise you.  Because you came straight to the counter and introduced yourself to me.  Because people who look like you don’t come in to places like this because they’re looking to pick up a copy of _Ancient Greek Mythology: Zeus and the Olympians_.  Also it’s not my shop.”

When I don’t say anything (I'm kinda too stunned to respond) they glance up again and exhale quietly, and slightly impatiently, as though annoyed I’m still here.

“The _Halos_ don’t come around here anymore, so if you’re looking for them you can clear off.”

I make a show of shaking my head and tilting it towards him.  “The what?”

“You’re not here for the _Halos?”_

“Sweetheart, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

They pull their lips together in a hard line but don’t say any more about it. They’re scrutinising me pretty hard through those lenses now, in particular the badges on my jacket.  I honestly don’t have a heckin’ clue what this kid’s talking about and it’s been like that since I walked through the front door.  They’re cute, but I don’t think it’s worth the weirdness now.  Plus that _‘people who look like you’_ comment stings.  I don't usually let something that like slide, but this kid's too pretty to bruise.  So instead I shove my hands in my pockets and take a few steps back.

“Anyway, sorry to confuse you.  I’ll go -”

“Then why are you here?”

I pause mid-step and grin ‘cause I can’t help it.  This kid was pretending not to give a shit about me a minute ago; now they're curious.  “Will that information mean something to you if I tell you?”

“Probably not, but like I said,”  They push their glasses up to rest on their head and fucking _wow_.  “It’s a small town and -”

And I don’t hear anything they say because I’m struck dumb by how fucking attacked I feel by this kid’s intense gaze.  Those stupid lenses were in the way before but now I can see clearly the widest, bluest eyes I think I could drown in - framed by lashes longer and darker than any others I’ve ever seen.  Them and that little pink frowning mouth… I swear I’m not exaggerating when I say it feels like I’ve been shot in the chest and my heart's bleeding butterflies.

I don’t think my heart’s ever beat this fast before.  Not when uncle Hannes let me ride his Harley for this first time.  Not when Historia Reiss and I were fooling around in the chemistry closest during class.  Not even when Mikasa and I stole dad’s car and fled Shiganshina eight months ago.  Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little with that last one.  But my hand jerks and I actually have to stop myself from slapping a hand over my chest because that would be embarrassing.  Instead I move suddenly towards him, but stop when he takes a step back and whips a mobile from his pocket, his expression guarded.

I’m still kind of reeling from how fucking stunning this person is, but I find enough brainpower to nod at the phone in his hand and raise an eyebrow.  “Are you planning to chuck that at me or call the police?”

Their thumb hovers over the 1 key but they don’t take their eyes off of mine.  I hope they never do.  “Something like that.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you there.”  I hold out my hands in a surrendering gesture.  I think I forgot what a rough state I'm in - any sane person would take one look at (or whiff of) me and go running in the opposite direction.  “Look, I get that we’re in a small white town and I’m not exactly the right… kind of person you’re used to.  But I’m not here to hurt you or anything like that.  Honestly, I just saw you through the window and thought I’d try my luck because you’re gorgeous, sweetheart.  Sorry if I made you uncomfortable - I’ll leave if you want me to.”

I don’t think much of what I’m saying is registering by the confused frown on their face.  Their lips distract me again, and I watch quiet words slip from them.  “...small white… _white_ town…"  Their eyes widen in alarm and something that looks a lot like guilt flashes across their face.

“Oh, oh no I…"  Their grip on the phone slacks, and their other hand presses fingers to their mouth.  “God, that wasn’t what I meant when I said ‘people like you’.  We’re not like that here, I swear I’m not discriminating against... I'm not.  I’m sorry that it came across that way.”

Oh, well.  That makes me a feel a little better then.  Not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna end up having a really hard time in this town.  “So why _are_ you discriminating against me then, huh?”

The kid bites their lip, tucking their phone back into their pocket and nodding towards me.  “The patches on your jacket.  I don’t recognise them.”

I tuck my chin against my chest to stare down.  The sewn on badge on my jacket reads _ARROWS_ in red print, then _LIEUTENANT_ beneath that.

“Oh, this was my uncle’s jacket.  Found it in storage when he died and we were clearing out his shit.”  I approach the counter again hesitantly, relieved when the kid doesn't have any kind of hostile reaction. “The _Arrows_ were his MC.  It’s a dead club - didn’t think the patches would mean anything any more.”

“I’d be careful if I were you.”  They say, unwinding the scarf from around their neck and removing the glasses from the top of their head to toss them on to the counter.  The movement musses up their hair a little. “Even if the club is gone now, you don’t want to be wearing any unfamiliar patches around here.”

“What, the folk here take offense at motorcycle clubs?”

“No, the... folk here are just wary of unfamiliar... patches."

I stare at him.  He isn't very good at hiding what he's getting at.  “The Arrows weren’t a gang, sweetheart.  They were an honest to god MC.  Bike enthusiasts.”

“If you say so, but still.”  They stare straight back and it cuts me deep.  “I’d take those off while you’re here.”

“You worrying about me?  Is there anything else you want me to take off?”  I lean against the counter and grin.  I’m closer to them than I was before, and I can smell the perfume on them.  It’s faint, but sweet.  My eyes drop to their collarbone where I know the scent is dabbed, then lower to rest lazily on their chest.  Flat.  Weirdly, I’m not disappointed.

“Oi.”  They say, and my gaze snaps back up to their face.  “I’m not interested.  I gave you your warning, so stop... mentally groping me and get out if you’re not going to buy anything.”

 _"Mentally groping you?"_  I laugh at the phrase, though I can't deny its accuracy.

"I'm well acquainted with that look."  They retort.  "There's nothing there, you know.  I'm a boy."

"So?"  I smile.  "Doesn't make you any less beautiful.  Is 'he' okay then?  Or do you prefer something else?"

"It's -"  They pause and stare at me in surprise.  They blink before saying quietly:  "Uh, whatever.  'He' is fine."

I keep smiling until he lets out a breathless laugh and pulls open a drawer on the counter, shaking his head.  "Not that it matters.  I don't expect to see you again."

"Oh, you will.  But I have to go check on someone now."  I can't risk letting Mikasa loose on her own for long - she's probably already sitting at a bar just itching for someone to start something with her.

I watch the kid rummage around the drawer and pull out a roll of blank labeling stickers to drop on the counter top.  He uncaps a permanent marker and makes an irritated noise when it drops and rolls under the counter.  I duck to pick it up and hand it over with a smile.  He snatches it from my hand without saying anything.  If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's a tiny bit flustered.  "Hey darlin', when do you close?"

“Just before your bedtime, _darlin’_ ,” The blond shuts the drawer with a slam and looks at me expectantly before nodding his head towards the door.  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Don’t you worry.  I’ll be back for that mythology book.”

He rolls his eyes before shaking his head.  “No you won’t.  Because I’ll lock the door.”

I clutch my hands to my chest like I’ve been shot and widen my eyes dramatically. “Aw, darlin’ don’t do that.  You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

He crosses his arms and nods towards the door again without saying anything.  So I crouch down to my knees so I’m eye level with the counter.  I clasp my hands together in a pleading gesture and give him the saddest smile I can.  “Please, darlin’?”

He looks down at me, arms still crossed and an expression that tells me he’s downright unimpressed.  “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

“Aren’t I though?”

“No.”  He says, but I swear the corner of his mouth twitches.

"I'm not leaving til you admit it."

"I'm going to call the police."

"For what?"

"Harassment."

I tilt my head to the side, widen my eyes a little and conjure the most hurt expression I can.  He rolls his eyes again.  "Whatever.  You're cute, but you know I'm lying."

"No, you're not."  I stand up, satisfied with that answer.  I pluck the marker from his fingers and scribble on the blank roll, ignoring his protests.  I peel off the sticker and press it down on the counter.  "That's my name, and the license plate digits of my car.  I dunno how long I'm in town, but come say hi if you see me."

He stares at me, then at the counter.  He looks kind of scandalised.  "Now's the part where you write your number down on a sticker,"  I point out, and take his hand to place the marker in his open palm.  Then I press my own hand to my chest.  "So I can stick it over my heart."

He bursts out laughing and I feel a warmth spread from my chest at the sound.  "Do these... Do these _lines_ actually work for you?"

"You tell me."  I shrug, a little embarrassed l but I keep smiling anyway because he's smiling too in spite of my idiocy.  He shakes his head and drums his fingers against the counter where the sticker I put is.

"You know, you could've given me  _your_ number instead of your car information.  What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Don't have a phone, sweetheart.  That's just if you see that car, you'll know I'm not too far away."

"How are you supposed to call me if I give you my number then?"

"I'm sure some kindly bartender around here will let me use their landline."  I shrug.  "Or you know, I'll use a payphone if I can scrounge some change."

He looks at me for a few moments before snatching the sticker roll from my grasp and writes, muttering to himself about crazy strangers and stupid green eyes.  I try not to bounce with glee when he looks up and slams the sticker against my jacket pocket with red cheeks.

I wink at him with a "See you later, sweetheart."  He doesn't even answer as I leave the shop, but I can tell he's fighting a smile by the way his hand flutters about his mouth.  Jesus, I think I'm in love with this kid already.

Back out on the street, I notice the kid at the corner's gone.  I'm so giddy, I don't think I'd have cared either way.  But I know what I have to do now is basically search every bar, pub and liquor store in this town until I find my sister.  It's what she does when she's in a mood - drink herself stupid and get in a fight or two to get it out of her system.  Course, she's never been this heartbroken before so I'm a bit wary of what to expect this time.

I glance down at my chest to squint at the sticker.  The handwriting is barely legible, but I can just make out the digits and a name printed above.

_Armin Arlert_

Huh.  I may have only been in this town twenty minutes, but I think I've just found my reason to stay.


	2. hey, shut up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren locates his sister pretty quickly after meeting the angel of Shiganshina that is Armin Arlert. In a bar though. Of course it's a fucking bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no armin appearance in this one sorry
> 
> also i know nothing about motorcycles i literally just drew from my knowledge of the seven seasons of sons of anarchy i watched within two months

It doesn't take long for me to find her.  In fact it takes a total of eight minutes walking through the charmingly dull streets of Trost, ignoring all sidelong glances and people of all ages and genders crossing the street to avoid me, before I hear a scream and reluctantly head towards the source.

And yeah, it's a bar.  Of course it's a fucking bar. _'Maria's Wings'_  it reads on the grotty plaque above the door, complete with a halo replacing the dot of the _'i'_.Lame, but okay.  I mentally prepare myself for a quick getaway after I throw at least one punch and go inside.

The scene before me is both unexpected and unsurprising.  At least two people are on the ground: a girl on her knees (source of the earlier scream I'm guessing) weeping over what looks like shards of a broken plate; and the buzzcut kid I saw earlier is on his back with a horrified look on his face, clutching a snooker cue aimed at none other than my sister.  She stares down at the kid with ice in her eyes and a bottle in her hand, deaf to the warnings from the anxious barman.

"- can finish your drink, but if you don't calm down I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"She threatened to rip my balls off then shove them up my ass!"  The kid shrieks over the girl's wails.

"You've had worse threats, Connie.  Relax."

"Dude, fucking  _look_ at her - she's looks like gonna  _slay_ _me."_

The bar's pretty much empty though it just keeps getting noisier and Mikasa's showing no signs of backing down so I figure it's time for big (okay, little) bro to intervene.  Holding my hands out in a sort of calming gesture, I clear my throat and take a few steps into the room.  They all look at me with the exception of the kid on the ground who's still cowering under Mikasa's shadow.  Fair enough.

"Hey, folks... Look, everyone just relax.  There's nothing to freak out about here.  Probably.  Whatever my sister did, we're sorry.  Okay?"

"I'm not."  Mikasa says shortly and I widen my eyes at her meaningfully.  She stares back unaffectedly, either not understanding or not caring that we need to play nice here.  I'm betting on the latter.  "He was being rude to her.  He deserved to be thrown across the pool table."

"No, I'd never -"

"You _were_ being kind of an ass, Connie."  The girl sniffs, and even the bartender gives a tired nod.

Buzzcut kid splutters, and Mikasa helps the girl to her feet.  "I'll help clean up though."  She says, looking pointedly at the mess at their feet.  The bartender waves away her offer and fetches a broom to sweep up the food and shards, nudging the kid (Connie, I guess) to his feet with the handle.  Mikasa takes the girl to the bathroom to clean up the food that spilled down her front, so I approach the bartender with apologies and empty promises to pay for the plate (hey, it's not like I wouldn't - I just can barely afford a replacement toothbrush).  He's darker-skinned like me, and built like how I'd imagine a farm boy to be built; tall and broad-shouldered with your standard nice-guy face (you know the type - default expression is crinkly eyes with a wide toothy smile).  Complete with rolled up sleeves exposing a tattoo in the shape of wings on one of his forearms.  Okay, looking a little less like a farm boy.

He tells me I don't need to worry about replacing the plate (well, _phew),_ but lets me take the broom from him so he can go behind the bar again to fetch a towel.

"So, your sister huh?"  He smiles (yep - it's toothy) and crouches down to clear up.  I think I hear a rumbling sound approaching from outside, but it cuts off abruptly so I don't give it another thought.  "I shouldn't be saying this when she could've destroyed my bar, but I'm kinda impressed.  I mean, I know a few guys who could easily chuck Connie across the room but... I certainly wasn't expecting her to be able to.  It was like something out of a movie."

"Yeah, she gets that a lot."  I grin, then jerk my head towards Connie who's slouched off to a corner, staring moodily at the bathroom door.  "Hey, is he even legally allowed to be here?  How old is he?"

"Got a family license til eight o'clock.  And he's seventeen.  Not that he acts like it."  He replies, shaking his head.  Then he stands and looks at me with a hint of amusement in his eyes.  "And you?  Do I need to throw you out come eight o'clock?"

"I'm _nineteen_."  I scowl and he laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender.  "Okay, okay.  But if you want to order a drink, I'm going to have to ask for ID."

I grumble about my driver's license in the car, about Mikasa probably not getting ID'd, and that I couldn't afford a drink anyway.

"Who can't afford a drink?"

I along with the bartender turn at the sound of the voice and find its owner stepping through the doorway.

Dude's tall.  Not as tall as the farmboy/bartender but taller than me at least.  Dressed in slim black jeans and a leather cut identical to Connie's, his arms are bare and I immediately spot familiar ink on his forearm.  Alarm bells are kind of tinkling on that one.  He's also got this unevenly coloured undercut that's supposed to no longer be cool but right now I forget why.  And these narrow brownish eyes scrutinising me as I gawk at him.  Oh man, when did eyebrow piercings become hot?

"Me."  I answer before gawking turns to ogling.  "I'm poor as shit."

"Did you hire a busboy, Marco?"  The guy says, nodding towards the broom in my hand.  "They need to be legal to serve alcohol, you know."

"He's nineteen apparently."  The bartender (Marco, I guess - I'm trying to keep up) smiles as I scowl again.  "And no, he's just helping me tidy a bit."

"Huh.  Well, don't serve him anyway if he can't afford nothing."  He says with one last glance at me before moving past us and sitting at the bar, ignoring Marco's muttered "You're one to talk." as he reaches over the bar to grab a bottle.  I go back to sweeping, staring at the back of his head.  Man, the customer service in this town just blows me away.

"Oi, Connie."  He takes a swig of whatever's in the bottle and looks over his shoulder at buzzcut kid who's still sulking in the corner.  "Who pissed in your apple juice?"

Obviously pleased to receive some attention from the newcomer, Connie jumps off his stool and goes over to the bar to murmur in his ear.  He's got piercings there too.  I sweep a little faster.

"Yeah, I figured.  Hey, kid."

Me?  I don't react until the guy swivels in his seat and looks right at me, leaning back with his elbows on the bar as Marco moves behind it and tuts at the water ring that his bottle's left on the counter.  I stare back blankly and the broom stills in my hands.

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't peg you for a bookworm."

What?

The confusion must show on my face, because his eyes drop to the patches on my chest to give me a hint.  More specifically, they focus on the sticker that a certain cute bookstore employee bestowed upon my chest that I now wear like a medal of honour.  Guess I should've taken that off as well as the patches like Armin told me to, huh?

The guy's gaze moves back to my face - and I dunno if that's his default expression or anything, but he doesn't look too happy.  Buzzcut Connie has this annoying smug look on his face that I wanna smack off though.  I'd bet my lost toothbrush he just ratted me out.

"Yeah, well.  Don't judge a book by its cover right?"  I shrug, and oh he doesn't like that.  His eyebrow raises and I follow the silver stud that raises along with it.  I kinda feel like aggravating that eyebrow just a little bit more.  "But yeah, you're right.  I'm not much of a book lover.  Blonds are more my thing."

Haha, oh man - he  _really_ didn't like that.  His eyes narrow even further and he shifts on his stool like he's about to stand up and deck me one when the bathroom door swings open.  Mikasa and the crying girl emerge and everyone's attention turns to them.  I should be relieved, but I was actually kind of looking forward to what might've just happened.  For like a second maybe.

"Shit, Sasha.  You okay?"  The strange guy squints at her in concern.  I can tell Mikasa did her best, but there wasn't much she could do about the gravy stains on the girl's white vest or the red in her eyes.

"I'm fine.  Connie was being a dick."  She mumbles, then she turns to Mikasa and smiles.  "Thank you though.  I mean, you owe me a steak pie.  But still."

Mikasa nods her head solemnly in acknowledgement, and I spare a thought to how crazy this girl is for wanting to eat steak pie in this heat.  And wonder if this wing tattoo is a town-wide thing as I spot it on her skin.  Maybe they're Maria's and everyone's just a die hard fan of this pub.

Or you know, I could do the whole logic thing and assume I've waltzed into a town run by a gang.  Makes sense, since the blond warned me about my own patches.  If I take a closer look at Connie and the stranger's cuts, there's a plain white font stating  _Halos_ on their right breast.  And that rumbling sound I heard earlier was probably the bike that this guy pulled up on.  Great.  Not just a gang, but a fucking  _biker gang._ Well, at least they're not hairy old men like I always pictured my uncle's MC.

The new guy's not looking at me anymore though, nor the Sasha girl.  As most do, this dude's eyes have zeroed in on Mikasa and I've seen enough stares like that to know what he's thinking.

"Haven't seen you around here."  He says.  She doesn't answer him and looks to me.  I don't even need to wonder if she's already figured out what I have.  She's probably already plotted out our escape route.

"My sister and I just arrived this morning."  I say, and all heads turn towards me again.  All but Marco's who's pretending to be engrossed in scrubbing the counter, but I catch his eyes flicking up in my direction.  "We'll probably stay a few days then take off if we find nothing worth staying for."

Mikasa's crosses to my side before I'm even done speaking.  She stares at the photographs framed above the bar with this kinda misty look in her eyes.  She's not really looking at them, and I realise my poor choice of words.  Shit, I should really talk to her about this later.

"My family runs a bed and breakfast a few streets from here."  Sasha pipes up, suddenly the most (probably the only) cheerful person in the room despite her earlier bawling.  "The rooms are cheap, and the steak pies are good."

The last part is directed at Mikasa with an eager look, and boy this girl is as subtle as a brick to the face.  I don't think Mikasa's caught on though.

"Eh, yeah thanks but unless cheap means free, we're gonna have to pass."

Sasha's smile slips into a disappointed pout.  "There's not really anywhere else in town to stay... Where will you sleep?"

"My car."  I shrug, and the still-nameless guy snorts while Connie just laughs and asks if we're homeless.  We are, but it's not something I feel like talking about with these strangers.

"Hey."  Marco says to them sharply, and that shuts them up.  He then looks at me and my family in concern.  "Are you serious?  You have nowhere to stay?"

Eyebrow Stud closes his eyes and sighs, rolling his head back.  "Marco, I swear if you're about to offer them something that's not yours to offer -"

"I'm not an idiot, Jean."  Marco rolls his eyes as the name rolls off his tongue.   _Jean._ So that's the guy's name.  I'm tempted to say it aloud myself just to see how it feels in my mouth.  "But you know what Rivaille's like - if he catches them snoozing in a car on the street he'll run them out of town."

"Let him."  Jean says dismissively, then tilts his head and cracks one eye open to focus on Mikasa.  Who's still staring at the photographs and probably a million miles away in her head.  Or however many miles a few hours back the way we came is.

"When did you become so heartless, Jean?"  Sasha huffs.

"About four months ago."  Connie almost sniggers until Jean shoots him a look so dark that I think Connie might never speak again.  Marco looks as though he wants to disown all three of them.

"Look, at least park around the bar of the bar."  He says with this pitying look in his eyes that makes me want to gouge them out.  Where does this guy get off mothering complete strangers?  "It's my private property, so local police can't do nothing about it."

I look at Mikasa who's now decided the present situation worthy of her attention, and she shrugs a shoulder as though to say  _'It's better than some cop banging on the car window in the middle of the night.'_ Oh yeah, and we should probably be concerned about him running the license plates too.  I don't feel like hightailing it across the country in one night again.

"Sure, if you're offering.  Thanks."  I say.

"Christ, Marco - do you need to mother every stray that wanders into your bar?"  Jean shakes his head and even though it's pretty much the exact same thing I just thought about Marco, it kinda pisses me off a little.  Well, it does until Marco says "Well you should know.  You were the first stray."  and cuffs the back of Jean's head with this fond look on his face.  Jean grunts at the impact but gives Marco a rueful smile.  It's the kind of exchange that you only see between those who've been friends a long time.  The only person I've been like that with is Mikasa.  I guess she's my best friend as well as my sister.  Living in a car with someone for eight months'll either lead to a deeper bond or homicide I suppose.

Not quite sure what to do next, I hand the broom over to Marco while Sasha drags Mikasa off to a table and figure I may as well order some food since he'd lending us his parking space.  I ask for the cheapest thing (oh my god bacon rolls bacon rolls I'm gonna drool on the fucking counter) and lean against the bar while I wait.  Right next to Jean.

"What?"  He asks, and shit I must've said his name out loud.

"Uh, what kinda bike you got?"

He blinks and takes a low gulp of his beer.  "Dyna Super Glide.  Got a Bonneville in the garage back home though.  You know bikes?"

"Nah, not really."  I shrug.  "My uncle had a Street Bob though and he let me ride it sometimes.  He's the one that gave me this."  I gesture to the  _ARROWS_ stitching on my jacket.  Probably a dumb idea since now he's looking at the sticker again.  I dunno why I haven't put it in my damn pocket already, or why I feel the need to hide it from this guy.

He gestures at my chest with his bottle and I brace myself.  "So.  Blonds, huh?"

Uh.

"Uh.  Look man, I dunno if I've crossed some sort of line here where you're all just really protective of your townsfolk like some sort of cliché rodeo gang or whatever, but -"

Jean laughs and it startles me enough to shut me up.  He shakes his head, smiling a little as he gazes towards the opposite side of the room.  "God, that's probably what it seems like from the outside doesn't it?  Nah, don't worry.  You're not stepping on anyone's toes, I was just being a dick earlier cause I felt like it."

"...Okay.  So, this wouldn't be a problem for you?"  I point at the sticker, raising my eyebrows.  Though I have a feeling it doesn't look as good as when he did it.

"Armin's a big boy.  He can make his own decisions."  He shrugs, throws his head back and gulps.  Then he leaves the stool and makes his way to Sasha and Mikasa's table.  He sits across from them and smiles and talks and suddenly he looks like the most charming bastard in the world.

Connie slips away to join them too as Marco brings over my bacon rolls.  I immediately stuff one in my gob and shove the other to the opposite end of the bar cause it's meant for Mikasa and I don't wanna accidentally stuff that one in too.  Marco smirks at me, crossing his arms in satisfaction over that farmboy chest of his.  I spare a breath to thank him again and finish the roll twenty seconds later.

I swallow the last bite and look up at him.  "So,"  I nod at the tattoo on his arm.  "D'you ride too?"

He steps back and waves an arm at the wall of photographs behind him.  "That's her."  He points at a framed picture of his younger self and a dark-haired girl leaning against a Harley Davidson.  And shit, I think it's a Fatboy.  Farmboy's got himself a freaking Terminator bike.

"You talking about the bike or the girl?"

"Oi."  He whips the dishtowel at me and I let out a manly yelp and grin when the hand it hits starts to sting.  "That's my girlfriend you're talking about.  And before you ask, they both ride very nice thank you."

I laugh and take the invitation to look at the rest of the photos when he leaves to give Mikasa her bacon roll.  There's not much variety - they range from black and white to coloured pictures, most of which centred around motorcycles.  I guess it's a generation thing.  Photos of Marco at various ages are scattered throughout, sometimes with who I'm assuming are his parents by the freckled faces and similar toothy smiles, and sometimes with the girl from the first picture.  There's a great one of Sasha on a Harley I don't recognise - she's obviously mid-laugh with her mouth open and smiling and her eyes squeezed shut.  If I squint I think I can see Connie pretending to sulk in the background.

There's not many of Jean, but when I do spot them they're all showing him at varying ages as well.  I can't help smiling at the chubby toddler held in place on a bike by a random adult, growing into a pimply teen to the hot piece of ass sitting behind me just now.  I look to see if there's a photo of him with the Bonneville he menti-

Oh.

Well.  There it is.  The motorbike's sleek and shiny, and Jean's got one hand on the handlebar and the biggest smile I've ever seen on anyone I've ever met.  His piercings are there when they weren't in the others, so I'm guessing it's a recent-ish one.  Plus the grin makes him look like ten times hotter but yeah, that's not really what's got me oh-ing.

"Oh, I guess you'd recognise him wouldn't you?"  Marco says as he slips back behind the bar, nodding to the photograph I'm staring at.  Armin beams back at us, rosy-cheeked and pretty in a pink sweater and white shorts. His arms circle Jean's waist as his head leans on his chest. "He looks a little different with shorter hair, but you can still tell."

"Eh, yeah I can.  His face is rounder there too."  I smile.  "So, they're pretty close then huh?"

"Well,"  Marco sighs, leaning on the counter with both palms and looking at me with a kind of uncomfortable regret.  "Yeah.  They were.  They still sort of are, but I guess break-ups can still be kinda tender even after a while."

"Break-ups?  So they were -?"  I interlock my fingers like some lame-ass idiot and desperately hope I don't have this sad puppy dog look on my face.  I guess I do cause he gives me this reassuring smile.

"Yeah, but don't let it bother you if you like Armin.  Jean's not gonna be a problem for you - he cares too much about Armin to interfere like that.  Unless you're a dick to him."

Comforting.

"Besides, it looks like he really likes you."  He smiles even wider, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he nods towards the sticker peeling off my jacket.  I peel it off and stare down at the digits.  "It took years for Armin to finally give Connie his number, and they've known each other since nursery school."

"Mm."  I acknowledge this info with a thoughtful humming noise and feel kinda better.  I hear laughter behind me and glance around to see Mikasa holding her bacon roll at arm's length away from a pouting Sasha.  Connie's laughing at his friend, and Jean's got this lazy smirk playing across his face as he leans back in his chair.  They seem pretty content, and the corner of Mikasa's mouth twitches as Sasha drops her head despairingly onto her shoulder.  Maybe hanging around here could cheer her up a bit after all.  I know I've made my decision about this town.

"Hey, Marco.  You got a phone I could maybe borrow?"

The knowing smirk on his face says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess i should update the tags for this now that you know i'm a multi-shipping piece of shit no matter what fic it is


	3. i'm no frankie avalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren figures if he's gonna stick around Trost for a while he's gonna need the cash to fund his living expenses (i.e. food and gas money). Who doesn't love hiking around a small town in 100 degree heat looking for a job? Eren sure doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos to you if you've realised the fic and chapter titles are song lyrics - congrats to me and my marvellous music taste.

We accept Marco's unspoken invitation to hang about the bar until retiring to the car.  I bring it around to park behind Maria's Wings like Marco suggested, and (with some embarrassment) take the spare blankets he pushes on to us.  He reminds me a little bit of a mother hen.  A well-built, handsome mother hen with gang tattoos.

I'm only making assumptions about that though, cause I haven't asked yet.  I dunno if they'd take offence or whatever, but I'm not willing to risk somewhere safer to stay just to satisfy my own curiosity.  Besides, if this 'Rivaille' person they mentioned earlier is on the hunt for drifters like my sister and I, then I'd rather just take the side of the town gang or whatever it is they're supposed to be.

We slip out around eleven, deliriously tired from the day's travelling, and head to the car.  Mikasa crashes in the back seat, curled up around her backpack and not making a single sound as she sleeps.  I take the passenger seat, tucking Marco's blankets around me like a kid then I'm out like a light.  And when I wake up it's hot as hell and my back aches and the sun's shining directly in my eyes.  And Mikasa's head's on my shoulder.

"Hey."  I stretch and bump my head gently against hers.  "How you doing?"

She bumps back, hesitating for a moment before saying "Hungry."

Yeah, me too.  I figure I can probably scrounge some cash for breakfast at  _Maria's_ , then I should probably find somewhere to work today if we wanna eat tomorrow.  I have an inkling it might be kinda hard to get someone to employ me.  But I feel okay about staying here in Trost a while.  Mikasa would probably argue that it's too soon to be thinking that.  She'd be right, but I feel okay all the same.

Then she reminds me that we haven't showered in days and I feel less okay.  Where the hell can we borrow a shower here?  Usually we can stay at a hostel and skip out on paying the next day, or we make friends fast and crash at theirs like the last town.  I doubt there are any hostels here and I don't think we've actually made any friends here yet.  And there's no way I'm asking Marco for another favour.

I audibly sigh in relief when Mikasa says that Sasha mentioned there was a indoor swimming pool with showers in the town centre.  Now that's doable.

We wander around the streets until we find the leisure centre with the pool and slip past reception quite easily.  There's no sign about an admission fee but we'd rather not take the risk of asking.  We part ways into the separate changing rooms and attached showers.  Luckily mine is empty, not that I'd have a problem being soapy and nude in front of strangers at all.  And there's just enough shampoo left in the bottle to make me smell coconutty fresh.  So I strip and groan happily as I wash nearly a week's worth of dirt and grime from my hair and skin.  Seeing it all wash away down the drain gives me this weird sense of satisfaction.  I'm gonna be so fucking clean.

I change into fresh-ish clothes (I've ditched the leather today in favour of three-quarter lengths and a biker tank - embarrassingly hipster-esque but the weather here is scorching today) and meet Mikasa out front.  Looking as clean and content as I feel, she hands me a tube of toothpaste.  I squeeze some onto my finger and rub it across my front teeth.  She shoots me a disgusted look as she tosses me a water bottle and I shrug before rinsing and spitting.

 _'Maria's_  then job hunting?"  I ask and she nods - not as enthusiastically as I'd have preferred but whatever.

"Let me guess," Marco smirks.  "Bacon rolls?"

I grin sheepishly and we settle at the bar.  It's as (not) busy as it was yesterday, but to be fair it's not even nine yet.  There's no sign of Connie, Sasha or Jean - just a couple of old codgers keeping to themselves in the corner and us.  I nod in greeting and they grunt in response.  Gotta blend in somehow.

"Sleep alright?  You look a bit fresher than you did yesterday."  Marco brings us the food and we tear into it like the starving savages we are.

I thank him again for letting us park behind the bar and he asks us our plans for the day.  Mikasa stares at her empty plate as I tell him.

"Don't know anywhere local that's hiring, do you?"

Marco shrugs his big man shoulders.  "You'll just need to ask around.  Not a lot of people'll take on temporary staff here."

Yeah, I figured as much.  Won't stop me from trying anyway.  I try and convince Mikasa to talk to Sasha about her family's B&B but she point-blank refuses.  I figured that much as well.

"I need some air."  She says suddenly, scrapes her stool back and leaves through the back entrance.  I watch her go, fighting a sigh.  I should really try and cheer her up soon.  But it's hard when she keeps running away from me.  Sometimes I dunno whether it's better just leaving her alone when she gets like this, but she always bounces back so I figure we must be doing okay.

"She alright?"  Marco asks, frowning a little at the door she escaped through.

I give a non-committal grunt and take a manly swig of orange juice.  And by manly swig I mean I sip through the little pink straw.

I never did call that boy from the bookstore.  I figured calling him a few hours after our spectacular meet cute was a bit pushy.  I could've blamed it on the fact that I'm a rolling stone, I go wherever the road takes me, so I need to live in the moment ya ya ya - but this one feels different.  I mean yeah, I still wanna live in the moment and sweep this sweetheart off his feet but there's a way to come at this and it's not panting after him like a lovestruck puppy.  Especially if I'm tiptoeing around the scarily tall and handsome ex.  Even if he did say I had the go-ahead.

But still, that's gotta take a backseat to Mikasa and our living situation anyway.  I still have Armin's details - the sticker folded and stuffed in my pocket.  And I can always swing by the store later on my job hunt.

I thank Marco for the food and follow my sister's leave.  My eyes immediately fall on the car - checking it's still intact and hasn't spontaneously exploded on us or anything - til I look to my left and see Mikasa sharing a cigarette with none other than Jean.  Smoking's an annoying habit she picked up recently (three guesses for who got her into it) and she gets pissy when I won't let her do it in the car.  Damn right she can't light anything in that car - it's on it's last wheels as it is.

"Morning."  I say to Jean, squinting at them in the sunlight.  I screw up my face when I do and hope it looks like I'm grossed out by their habits.

Jean greets me a little more cheerfully than I expect, and I'm relieved when he doesn't offer me a drag or whatever.  I always feel awkward refusing.  Mikasa pays me no mind at all, head down to avoid the sun and concentrating on the ash collecting at their feet.

"Mikasa tells me you guys are wanting for work?  Gotta say, you'll be hard pressed to find anyone here who'll take drifters on."  Jean says.  I'm honestly surprised Mikasa told him anything when she's barely said three sentences to me this morning.

"Might not be drifting for long."  I shrug.  Jean's got these stupidly awesome aviator glasses on that make me wanna take the cigarette from his lips and either kiss them or punch them.  I very wisely do neither of those things.  "Maybe Trost'll be our permanent residence, eh Kas?"

She jerks her head up at that, throwing me a sharp look.  She hates it when I call her Kas.  I think it's hilarious how offended she gets.  If I _really_ wanna piss her off I pronounce it  _Kaz._ We share a beautiful loving bond as siblings.

"Either way - won't be unless we find some work.  I'll go do that, and you just stay here and do fuck all if you like."  I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and shrugging.  I turn my back and walk away before I can see their reactions.  I dunno why I'm so pissed to catch her apparently blathering away to some stranger who's no doubt got ulterior motives.

And I know I probably just stupidly created his opening by acting like a typical douchebag brother but sometimes I can't help the words that come out my mouth.  I'm not great at the whole think-before-you-speak thing.  That covers my actions too.  Pretty sure my old school teachers scribbled stuff on my reports like _'this foolhardy boy is a slave to his impulses',_ and  _'struggles to control his temper both outwith and within confines of the classroom'._ I don't even wanna think what kinda comments would be on my criminal record.

I push those thoughts away cause I don't feel like prying open those wounds right now.  I try and forget about Mikasa too for now and focus on making myself seem as appealing as possible.  I approach all kinds of places in town - a barber shop run by the biggest dude I've ever seen in my life (with the most incredible nose), the leisure centre again, and a freaking homemade candle store just to name a few.  Barely anyone's even willing to talk to me, but those that do all want the same thing.  Experience, education, references.  I got plenty of experience but no evidence of it, no education past the compulsory eleven years, and no references worth giving.

I try and convince them I'm a great worker when given the chance, that I'll do shitty hours and the dumb jobs for pennies but they're not interested.  I dunno whether it's my appearance or the way I talk or just me in general.  But that's it.  No one'll hear me.  I can't even be trusted to sweep hair from the floor.

I'm hacked off and sweating all over by the time I've covered half the town.  I'm hungry again when I'm storming down a familiar street.  Up a little further there's bookstore to my right, and the daft flower shop to the left.  Feeling kinda sorry for myself, I figure I can go make Armin giggle for a while to cheer myself up a bit.

So I start towards the store, til something stark white from the left catches my eye.  And shit - it's a goddamn **'HELP WANTED'** sign.  It definitely wasn't there yesterday.  And it may be a fruity looking shop but hell, I'm freaking desperate here and working across the street from Armin would be a bonus.

Practically skipping, I change direction and barge through the entrance of  _Shadis's Sakuras._ And all my senses are assaulted at once.  Every colour in the rainbow spectrum is in here, from pastel blue hydrangeas  to outrageous orange marigolds.  I hold back a sneeze as pollen practically seeps into my pores and wince as I hear a screaming man from somewhere in the store.  There are bouquets and pots and vines and it's gorgeous and everything, but I'd trade plants for dusty bookshelves and grumpy blond assistants any day.

"Eh, hello?"  I call out and all goes quiet.  I bat away an annoying fat fly hovering near my elbow and wait for a response.  It's  _sweltering_ in here.

I remember the guy that appears behind the counter - tall and slim with a shiny head and some killer bags under his eyes.  Like seriously, this guy needs to get some shut-eye.  

He stares at me incredulously, probably thinking along the lines of  _'how dare this insolent brat announce his presence so boldly in my store.'_ I'm pretty good at guessing what people think of me at first impression - they all usually think along similar lines.  I'm gonna push past his rude silence and go for this anyway.

"Hi, my name's Eren.  I'd like to... inquire about the ad in your window?"  I say with as much brightness as I can muster.  I even smile.  He stares back silently.  I feel my eye twitch as the fly makes itself at home on my bare shoulder.  I try to shrug it slightly but no joy.  The thing's like a freaking limpet.

"The ad?"  The guy (Shadis maybe) says sharply, eyes darting to the window.  "Ah, that one.  Yes, the position is for a store assistant since my current one -"

There's a loud crash from behind him and a high-pitched wail follows.  A muscle jumps in Shadis's jaw.

"- is a complete imbecile.  And in dire need of assistance himself."

I fight the impulse to grin and say _'Hey, you should just fire them and hire me instead!'_ cause I reckon it might be in poor taste.  This dude doesn't seem like a person that... has a sense of humour.  At all.

"Honestly, I'm desperate."  He grimaces as he looks me up and down.  I try not to cheer at his words.  Those words in that order are all I ever wanna hear cause that usually leads to me getting hired or kissed on the spot.  I'm hoping for the former though.  "You seem physically able.  I'd have to interview you formally of course, but if I could just see your CV first."

Ahh.

"About that... " I start slowly, and his dark eyes immediately narrow.  "I have a lot of employment experience but none of it is like, written down cause I don't have access to a computer or anything.  But my experience is varied cause I've moved around a lot - I've done bar work, and I've worked at gas stations and a carnival or two, and I've even volunteered at like those soup kitchens and... "

I can tell he's liking this less and less as I keep talking.  It's obvious to see that he thinks I'm some kind of bum that can't hold down a minimum wage job.  You could say he's right, but it's not like I can help it.  Certain circumstances and... events just kinda get in the way.

It's not long before he interrupts my babbling and gets straight to the point.

"Do you have the skills required to make a cascade bouquet?"

I kinda wilt a little.  "A what?"

"Have you ever made any bouquet of any kind before?"

I've barely opened my mouth before he crosses the room, dips behind a rose display and produces a bunch of delicate pink-petaled flowers with a flourish.  "Do you know what these are?"

"...Pretty?"  I say weakly, and yeah he's not laughing.

"Geraniums."  He snaps.  "Do you know anything about raising plants of any sort?"

"I know you need sunshine and water and lots of love to give.  That last one I got plenty of."  I joke.  God, I should just walk outta here right now.

"Strictly speaking, you're not wrong."  He says, and squints at me a little harder.  "And you seem eager enough.  How quickly do you absorb information?"

"I'm like a sponge, sir.  I'll suck all kinds of shit up."

Ooh, er.  I could've phrased that better.  Shadis doesn't seem too fazed though.  He's just kinda mumbling away to himself about 'regrets' and 'oh Rose help me'.  I take the time to smack away the fly once and for all.  Bastard was tickling me.

"Alright, it's decided."  I snap to attention as he speaks exhaustedly.  "I'll wait for more candidates until Thursday.  If none more suitable than yourself turn up, the job is yours."

I grin at him gleefully as I thank him for the opportunity, etc.  I struggle a little to keep it in place when he asks for my contact information.

"What do you mean you have none?  There must be something." He says impatiently.  "A number, an address -"

"Don't worry, sir.  I'll come to you bright and early Thursday morning."  I smile brightly and exit the store.

Hell yeah that job is mine.  I doubt some kind of pansy expert is gonna show up within the next two days to steal it out from under me.  I feel pretty sure of it.  And maybe this time I'll last a little bit longer and do a better job.  Maybe even get a reference and build a damn CV.  Things are looking brighter already.  I gotta admit though - it's pretty cocky of me to feel proud of something I haven't even achieved yet.  But still, I think as I fixate on the building across the street, maybe I _should_ reward myself a little.

Readying my knock-'em-dead smile, I saunter up to the bookstore's entrance and slip in.  The bell jingles and the shop assistant looks up.  My smile slips as I realise it's not the one I was expecting.

"By the look on your face you weren't hoping for me."  The old man at the counter says with no hint of amusement.  "You're probably not here for the books - so I'll tell you my grandson isn't here today."

Grandson.  So it's a family owned store then.  Gotta say... there's not much resemblance between them.  Not with Armin's light hair and pretty face - this guy looks tough as nails with his steely gaze and bushy beard.  Not that Armin's not tough too, but... appearance-wise it's a little hard to say.

This guy seems pretty no-nonsense so I'll just be straight with him.

"Okay then, uh, Mr. Arlert.  Do you know where I can find him then?"  I try a cheerful tone, but I think it makes him like me even less.

"If you think I'm about to tell a complete stranger where my grandson is then you're as stupid as you look."  He growls and I think I don't like him much either.  Clearly good customer service is not a running trait in the Arlert family.  "Armin's learned from his mistakes - he won't be spending any time with the likes of you lot any more."

I'm tempted to tell him I have Armin's mobile number already, but I don't wanna get Armin in trouble - as much as I'd like to see the pissed off look on his grandfather's face.  I'll just play it cool and polite and catch up with Armin later.

"Sorry to have bothered you, sir.  Won't happen again."  I say and back out of the store and make my way back into the town centre again.

Yeah yeah, whatever.  So what if he's not working today, I still have his number.  Unless his grandpa has custody of his mobile too.  But I doubt that, so I make a quick plan to pitstop at Maria's for lunch, tell Mikasa the good news and explore the other side of town.  As I wander along the street, I try not to think too much about the old man's words.  But I'm especially curious about that 'past mistakes' thing he mentioned.  Something to do with Jean maybe?

It's not likely I'll figure it out on my own so I push away the thoughts for now and head round the back of Maria's to pick up some cash from the car.  And damn, I guess today's a good day after all.

Almost scowling at the front wind-shield of my car is none other than the heaven-sent boy I was looking for.  Hair pulled back in a hastily-tied braid and dressed prettily in a slim white vest and little denim shorts, Armin's the best thing I've seen all day.  Even his tiny toenails are painted blue, showing through his worn out flip-flops, and there are sunglasses perched atop his head.

“Something upset you, sweetheart?”  I call out as I approach him.  He looks up, his frown startled away momentarily before it fixes itself back again.

“This is your car.”

“It is.”  I nod.  “You look nice today.”

“You didn’t call me.”

A simple white tote bag is slung over one shoulder, and he puts a hand on his hip as he speaks.  There’s a tiny note of accusation in his tone, but I can tell he’s trying to hide his annoyance as he squints at me in the sunlight.  It’s hard not to smile.

“Not yet.”  I take out the label from my pocket, unfold it and show him his own number.  “Didn’t want you to think I was too eager.”

“You kind of shot that horse in the face when you fell to your knees and begged in the shop yesterday.”

“I guess I did.”  I do smile then.  He totally likes me.  “What are you doing around the back of the streets?”

“I was taking a shortcut from school.  I was going to stop by _Maria’s_ to see someone.”

“School?”  I ask, wrinkling my nose in confusion.  I may not have been a great student but I'm sure that public schools are usually on holiday during these summer months.

“Summer school.”  He corrects himself.  “I’m taking extra classes to get more credit.  It can’t hurt to have that little bit extra on my university applications.”

What a good student.  I’d say perfect, if it wasn’t for the company I know he’s kept.  Not that I’m discriminating against the likes of myself and Jean, oh no.

“Ah, so that’s why you weren’t at the shop.”  I move to open the car door and dig around the glove compartment for my hidden wallet.

“You were at the shop?”  He asks, bright eyes widening a little in surprise.  “You _are_ eager.  I don’t expect my grandpa was too pleased to see you though.”

“Oh no, he was a peach.”  I slam the door shut and jerk my head towards the back entrance to the bar.  “You comin’ in or what?”

He turns his little perky nose up and steps through as I hold open the door for him.  It takes everything I have not to tell him that since I met him I’ve barely stopped thinking about the faint freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

It’s much darker inside the bar so it takes my eyes a few blinks to adjust.  By the time I can see straight, Armin’s already at the counter pulling a heavy textbook out of his bag and handing it over to Marco.  I hurry over.

“-ly useful.  I already took note of everything I might need from it.  Tell her thanks for me.”

“I will.”  Marco says, taking the book and putting it behind the counter.  “You not getting bored of summer school yet?”

“Not yet.  Besides, what else am I going to do in this town all summer?”

Marco’s eyes flick to me then back to Armin with a faint smile.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe a new adventure’s just round the corner.”

“Or sitting next to you in a swanky bar.”  I slide onto the stool next to Armin and wink when he looks at me blankly.

“Persistent.”  Is all he says, while Marco scoffs at my word choice and buggers off to serve someone else.

 I pat my pocket with the label and he rolls his eyes, though not without the corner of his mouth twitching up.  That lovely pink mouth.

I try to tell him I'm serious - that I'm a devastatingly lonely vagabond with a tragic past but so much love to give.  Doesn't look like he's buying it, but I think he's close to smiling.  And I can't wait to see it when he does.  One last push oughta do it.

"I said vagabond, but I'm actually an outlaw.  With a passion for justice and beauty.  Like Zorro but without the mask or the sexy moustache."

"That's all I need."  Armin shakes his head, rolling his eyes again.  The ironic thing is I'm not even exaggerating.  Well, maybe about the Zorro thing.  "Another outlaw vying for my affections."

"There's more than one of us?"

"No there's not.  I just wanted to see if it would bother you if there were."

"It would."  I say seriously and he turns his head to face me.  "It would bother me quite a bit actually.  Even though, if I'm being honest - you're way too good for the likes of me anyway."

Then he smiles with a faint blush and it's like I'm seeing the sun for the first time.  Having this kid smile at you is like a freaking spiritual experience and I can't help but sit there slack-jawed and staring back at him.  Then he opens his mouth to speak and mischief glints in his eyes and I'm having a different kind of experience altogether somewhere very specific in my body.

"What makes you think I'm good at all?  Maybe I've done some awful things.  How do you know I haven't committed terrible sins and loved every second of them?"

I laugh a little and it comes out equal parts dark and mysterious and not at all nervous like I actually am.  "Maybe I've done awful things too, darlin'.  You might not be the only one with a sinful past you know."

I dunno if it's what I've said or the way I'm looking at him, but something flares in Armin's eyes and his smile widens until finally he's laughing out loud.  Tilting his head to the side and giggling until I'm laughing too and he throws his head back and sighs.

"Oh god.  I don't need this.  I really don't.  Damn it.  God  _damn it."_ Then he stands up to grab my hand and pull me off my stool.  He leads me towards the exit to the back and I ask him where he's planning on taking me.

"Where  _you're_ planning on taking me you mean.  You're going to take me on an adventure, aren't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost wrote the word 'snogged' in this chapter ew. there's little worse than 'winch' though. ugh, scottish slang is gross.
> 
> armin's a bit of a risk-taker in this au. if you've read the [prequel short story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2797739) to this i did for jearmin week, you'll know that armin's always been very adamant in getting what he wants. though there are reasons behind his current 'fuck it, i'm going for it' attitude.


	4. so it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's (totally legally acquired) '67 Camaro isn't all that impressive speed-wise, or appearance-wise... or at all. But if Armin likes it then Eren's not complaining. For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to keep all chapters an annoyingly short length of 3,000-4,000 words or so even if barely anything happens.

I should probably feel a bit guilty about taking the car without letting Mikasa know - but hey, she hasn't told me shit lately and I'm feeling impulsive.

Well, really I'm just following Armin's impulses.  He's the one that seems to be taking the reigns here.  I've been tugged and pushed into my car with a demand to take him for a ride.  It's kind of a 180 from his attitude in the store yesterday, but I'm definitely not complaining.  If he has wild oats to sow then I'm here and ready to be sown.  Or whatever.

The thing is, I'm new here and don't really know where I'm going so he's gonna have to settle for me swerving around for a bit until I figure out a route.  In the meantime, I get to listen to him criticise my music choice.

"AC/DC?"  He laughs from the passenger seat next to me.  "Isn't that a bit cliché?"

At first I don't really get what Armin means.  Then I want to rant a little at him about the majestic awesomeness of classic rock, but when I turn my head from the road the sight of him stops me in my tracks.

He's pulled his hair loose from its braid only to scrunch it back in a knot - held in place against the headrest with a few blond wisps escaping and curling round the back of his neck.  His mouth is smiling and his eyes are wide in excitement as they look to me.  I'm not one for sentiment or preserving memories I know I'll remember anyway, but if I could take a polaroid shot of him right now I would.  I'd tack it to the dashboard where it'd stay for as long as it existed.

"Well?"  He prompts.

"I forget what I was going to say."  I admit, and he just laughs at me again.  And oh man, remember how I was looking forward to the sound of it?  It's even more amazing than I thought it was gonna be every time he does it.

I let him switch to radio without complaint, and smile at his choice of channel when a familiar tune starts to play.  Mikasa always refuses to admit she likes it even when she turns up the volume and nearly deafens me.

"Fitting."  I remark, narrowing beating a red light as we head to the edge of town.

"Don't flatter yourself, James Dean."  Armin says, and I don't bother pointing out that he's the one that said it, not me.

I ask him about summer school and he rolls his eyes like he doesn't wanna answer but he does.  He tells me it's pretty much revising things he already knows well, that it's dull, basically no different from regular school and most of his classmates bore him.  I get the feeling that he's bored with more than just that.  As if he's almost outgrown this place completely and ready to break free at any moment.  I can relate and I can't.  Cause I outgrew what I thought was my home too, but where Armin's too bright and beautiful for this tiny corner of the world, I just couldn't bear letting myself get twisted up inside any longer.  So I salvaged the only piece of home I cared about and took her away with me.

It's not like I'm planning on telling Armin any of this though, so I push those annoyingly deep thoughts away and tell him what I used to think of public education.  Basically not much, since it involved a lot of skipping and disrespecting my teachers which I doubt'll impress Armin and it doesn't.  School may bore him, but he's not one to go out of his way to break the rules just because he feels like it.

"Not to be a snob or anything..."  He starts, and I ready myself for some snobbery.  "But does this car go any faster?  And I take it the roof doesn't retract either?  I know some Camaros are convertibles..."

I smile at that.  Cause oh yeah, I'll bet this one's used to the wind in his hair on a speeding motorcycle with his arms around someone's waist.  Probably the ex-oat.

"Do I look like I can afford a convertible?"  I laugh, cause if I could my life would be very different.  Or maybe it'd be exactly the same.  "Do you even realise how old this car is?"

"There are old convertibles."  He pouts and I tell him this one isn't.  "Mm, I like it anyway.  So how much _did_  you pay for it?"

I choose to answer that with a faint smile and nothing else.

But I'll admit, this car used to be in much better shape.  I could easily push 90mph in this thing - now I'm lucky if I can hit even 50.  Not that I'd want to with all these pedestrians around (I doubt knocking over Armin's neighbours would make a good impression).  But we're almost out of town, heading towards a stretched and dusty road similar to the one Mikasa and I drove in on.  It looks nice and open - empty of traffic which means I don't have to worry about hitting anything, but I'd be conspicuous enough to warrant the attention of anyone who spotted us.  By anyone, I mean that hardass officer guy Marco mentioned.  He doesn't really sound like a person I'd wanna meet.

But I'm a restless guy, with a cute boy next to me waiting for me to do something - so I'd say it's worth the risk.  I tell Armin to roll his window down all the way and he does, his knees bouncing in anticipation.  I roll down my own, instantly hit with a blissfully cool breeze, and wriggle my toes a bit.  I can't say this is a great idea - though it's hardly the most reckless thing I've ever done.  But like I said, I wanna impress Armin and I doubt 30 miles an hour is gonna do it.

Briefly praying to whatever gods there may be looking out for me (none, as far as I've been able to tell), I press my foot down hard on the gas pedal.  There's a spectacularly loud rumbling noise and Armin laughs in delight as we hurtle down the final street on Trost's edge and out onto the open road.

The view isn't much - basically just dust and nothing else spread out in front and to the side of us for miles.  The dust reminds me that the Camaro is probably in desperate need of a wash - but the sky is clear and the speed we're going at gives me such an incredible feeling that I don't care.

I put pressure on the pedal and we hit 60, 65, 70 – and Armin's laughing as he tries to scrape his hair back from his face. I grin at his delight and push my foot harder. Trost shrinks behind us as the needle inches towards 80.

I don't think I've driven this fast since the night we left home. With our hearts in our mouths and laugher tearing from our throats until the euphoria of our escape drained and left us feeling hollow and in need of gas for the car and alcohol for us.

I pushed the car too hard that night – but _we_ had been pushed too hard, Mikasa and I. Sometimes I wonder how people reacted, if they talked about us; how _he_ reacted when he realised all three of us were gone. Then my imagination gets horribly vivid and I remember things and I have to shut it off. And moving at 90mph shuts everything off pretty quickly.

“Come on, baby.” I grit my teeth and squeeze the gearstick. For some unnecessary fucked up reason something in my head wants to relive that night – remember the initial realisation that I never have to go back to the place again and that it felt _amazing_ and that feeling never has to end.

“Can it make a hundred?” Armin shouts over the combined noise of the wind and engine. I push down harder in answer.

The thrill that courses through me when we pass 100mph is ripped out of me in the form of a triumphant howl. Armin whoops and laughs and I do too cause why the fuck not?  I feel good, like I'm driving on the edge of the world instead of this dusty road bang in the centre of it.  Makes me wish the Earth is flat just so I can do it for real.

When the feeling begins to simmer and my veins no longer hum under my skin, I ease off the pedal and slow us down. Partly because otherwise it's too noisy to talk and partly cause the engine just made this mildly terrifying crunching sound.

We steady at 40 – Trost a speck of dirt in the rearview mirror and Armin gives a happily exhausted groan next to me before saying he hasn't gone that fast in months.

"I like this car after all."  He says.

I glance over at him, still breathing hard like I've been running, and take in the wild tangle of his hair and the flush of his cheeks before dropping my gaze to his mouth. His lips are so pretty it's almost ridiculous.

“Stop it.” He says.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking about kissing me.”

“I'm... not.” I try, but I crack a grin and give myself away.

"Liar.  I won't let someone I've only just met kiss me."

"Oh, but god forbid you jump in a car with them and drive off."

"I'll tell everyone you kidnapped me."

I stare at him in mock surprise and hurt before reminding him that this was his idea. I didn't expect to be accused of being an abductor on what I'm considering to be a date. Armin's (metaphorically) driving this thing, even if I was the one to initiate it yesterday.

Then I stare at him in real surprise when he casually tells me he has pepper spray in his bag.

“Seriously?”

“No, it's actually a taser. Plus I box regularly, so.”

He smiles so brightly that I can't tell if he's kidding or not. So I assure him that I won't try to kiss him. Not yet at least, because I'm waiting for a moment. And now I know to ask him first.  No spontaneity unless I want my ass fried.

But he makes this quiet scornful sound and I ask him if he's disappointed. He only scoffs again, and yeah he's definitely disappointed.  And he's not even bothering to hide it. It's obvious that amidst the flirting (and mild threatening) he's a little conflicted about being here with me. Our brief trip out in the open road is basically the result of him going "fuck it" to his common sense. The whole push-and-pull thing between us has been going on since we met (a whopping 24 hours ago), but I'd be lying if I'm not enjoying it.  Not that we've spent more than twenty minutes with each other in that time.

It's quiet between us for a few minutes but I don't mind.  I like just driving, and knowing he's right there thinking about whether he wants me to kiss him or not.  I can imagine him weighing the pros and cons in his head.  I'm a stranger, but an attractive stranger.  I'm potentially a serial killer who now knows to be wary of tasers and practiced punches, but I drive a Camaro and he likes Camaros.

I realise that I may have a bigger ego than I thought, and remember that I actually admitted to him that I'm a criminal.  He mostly likely thought I was kidding though, which kind of makes me feel worse about it.  And I doubt he'd be here with me right now if he knew I lived in this car he likes so much.  He probably thinks the sleeping bags and clothes in the back are for a roadtrip or something.  I guess they are, but not the kind he expects.

“Mm, your lips are chapped.” He says finally, distracting me from troubling thoughts and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud because holy hell, is he kidding?

So I run the tip of my tongue along my cracked lips. “Mm, yeah they are.”

“I have some lip balm if you want.”

This time I do laugh. This kid is too much.  “Yeah, okay. Let me just pull over and put it on.”

I catch him smile a little out the corner of my eye as he rolls up the window and tells me it was just a suggestion.

“My god, do you want me to kiss you or not?”

“I'd even go so far as to say I'd _like_ you to.”

"Boy, you've changed your tune."  I say, amused when his cheeks darken and he answers with a would-be casual "Not necessarily."

“Promise you won't tase me?” I ask lightly, and then he's sitting upright and has almost completely twisted his body around to face mine.

“I won't tase you.  Unless you deserve it."

I smile, and give a series of casual nods before returning my attention to the road. “Good to know.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, the silver above my knuckles clinking mechanically. The sound distracts me from the slightly worrying clunking noise coming from the back of the car.

“Good to know?” He says dryly. “As in, for future reference?”

“I'm waiting for a moment.” I tell him, and remind myself in the process.

“This _is_ a moment. And now it's another one. And another. Look – they keep on passing by. All these _moments_ wasted as you're not kissing me.”

I'm not so much smiling as smirking now.  I don't think he's even being sarcastic.

“Yeah, but it's gonna be a damn near perfect moment I promise you that. And you may not have noticed, sweetheart – but I'm driving. I'm not _that_ good at multi-tasking.”

“So pull over.”

I can't help it – I laugh then and glance at him again to recognise the semi-serious pink pout he's wearing. And aw man, I'm dying to put my mouth on it – I really am, but I'm sticking with my instinct. And yeah okay, I like teasing him.  It's fast becoming my favourite thing.

I look at Armin properly, grateful that the road and land around us is pretty much completely clear and I don't need to worry about crashing and dying etc. His eyebrows are furrowed and his hair's windswept in that pop music video way – but he impatiently pushes back his fringe for it to stand on end before it stubbornly springs back into place.  Then he scoops it all back and ties it up with a quiet huff, exposing the sharp lines of his white neck.  The sight makes my skin tingle and my hands quiver.

I've seen and met pretty people before, of various genders, and messed around with a fair few of them. Armin's a different kind of pretty though – the type of stunning, unblemished beauty that's there even when he's looking like he wants to sock me one and I'd let him. The kind of beautiful that makes people like me stupid and think about risking their car and life just to look at him a little longer.

I tear my eyes away with a shake of my head, squeezing the wheel to force my body to calm down.

 _Shut up._ I tell my thudding heart, cause my reactions to Armin are just getting embarrassing now.

“Maybe I'll just ruin your 'moment' plan and kiss you first.” He says airily and I force myself to ignore his increasingly impish grin.

Though what I really can't ignore is the whining from the car engine. Shit _shit._

I check the gas meter and my stomach drops in the bad, very bad way.

“Oh god, no please don't... “ I whine pathetically as the engine gives an equally pitiful shudder. The car slows despite my foot still pressing uselessly on the pedal.

Armin remains silent as we eventually slow to a crawl, but I can feel my face burning in embarrassment and don't look at him. Instead I risk a glance at the rearview mirror and cringe as I realise how far away Armin's hometown is. A similarly sized dot of a town is ahead, but since it's about the same distance away as Trost is then it's fucking useless. How the hell am I going to get Armin home, or get myself or the car anywhere that isn't the middle of the fucking road out in absolutely fucking nowhere.

I let out a low groan and let myself slam my fist once against the wheel. The car finally grinds to a halt, giving one last wheeze before going silent and I can't believe this is happening I can't believe it shit _fuck_ fucking _-_

“ _Shit.”_

Well, actually I can believe it because the past has proven that the universe likes to continuously fuck me over.

“Well... That was appropriate timing.”

I turn at the sound of Armin's voice – at Armin who's looking pretty calm and I might even say looking downright _expectant_ with his hands clasped over his crossed knees.

“I'm kind of wallowing in my humiliation here.” I remind him, and the slight edges of his mouth quirk up a little.

“I know. It's cute.” He says, and I'm reeling at his cheek.

He bites his lip to stop his mouth from twitching up into a smile and I give myself a second to guess whether he's laughing at me or the situation he's put himself in or both. Probably both.

“So I'm cute when I'm begging on my knees, and I'm cute when I embarrass myself?” I ask wryly.

“Those two should be the same thing.” He points out and man, I want to kiss him so bad. And he's shifting a little, angling himself towards me and I want to - _I want to_ _**so**_ bad. But where would that leave us? We'd still be stranded here and I dunno if making out in my piece of shit car will make it more or less awkward afterwards.

My own hesitation surprises me – this isn't the kind of situation I usually give a lot of thought to. Not that I'm in this situation often (though a stolen classroom key breaking in the lock in the company of a certain ex-girlfriend springs to mind), but I feel like this one deserves more consideration. Armin deserves more consideration.

So I ignore his hints and my own want and ask him in a weak voice if he has a phone on him.

“Um -” He starts with a frown, then promptly shuts up as a quiet rumbling sound pricks our ears.

In a very meerkat-like fashion, he jolts upright and twists to look behind us. Far more anxiously, I turn as well.

I don't know whether to be nervous or relieved when I realise the growing black shapes moving towards us are motorcycles. I'm only more unsure when Armin's shoulders slouch and he swears under his breath.

“Potential rescuers?” I ask as he turns back around and sinks in the seat. He makes an undistinguishable noise in his throat and becomes very interested in the empty scrunched crisp packets on the dashboard.  I'll be embarrassed about the mess later.

I squint harder at the shapes and laugh in weak relief when I recognise Jean at the front of the group, and who are probably Connie and Sasha behind him.

“Oh thank god, it's only your biker ex-boyfriend and his cronies. This should be fun.”

Armin whips around at my words, looking equal parts shocked and annoyed. I'm too wound up to enjoy how sweet the expression is on him.

“How the – God, you've _got_ to be kidding me. You've _met_ already?”

“Yeah. Nice place, _Maria's_.” I say, ignoring the way Armin's eyes narrow when I wave at the others approaching. “Marco's alright too. Nicer than your ex at least.”

Armin mutters something about small towns and _“effing”,_ but slides down his seat again as the others get close enough to dismount their bikes.

I sigh and get out of the car, thinking this could go many ways and none of them good.

“Uh, afternoon.” I call out with false brightness as Jean stalks towards me, the others hovering near their bikes playfully discussing what sounds like an experimental beverage Marco's concocted that I never want to try. Good, this isn't too serious a situation then.

“Your sister is pitching a fit back at _Maria's.”_ Jean says, moving past me and towards the front of the car. “She nearly jumped on the back of my bike when I said I was going after you.”

Wow, I don't think it's even been twenty minutes since we left town. Marco must've ratted us out right away. Bastard. I owe him too much already.

“Why did you come after us?” I ask, holding back a growl when Jean pops the hood without so much as a glance at me for permission.  He does give Armin a hard look through the windscreen though.

“Because I saw your piece of shit car this morning and knew it wouldn't last another fifty miles.” He retorts, then grimaces at whatever he sees under the hood. “Jesus, you're lucky this thing didn't blow up weeks ago.”

Lucky. That's me.

I shoot an apologetic look in Armin's direction though when he seemingly reluctantly gets out of the car. I'll admit, it was stupid of me in more ways than one to take him out in it when it was in such bad condition. And to push its limits so hard too when I know I can't afford to replace it. And god, I didn't even _think_ to check the gas tank after we drove for so long to get to Trost yesterday.  How stupid can a person get?

Armin catches my look as he comes around to my side to lean against the door. He just shrugs and looks down at his feet, suddenly very interested in his blue toenails.

“I'm gonna have to get Marco's truck and tow it back.” Jean sighs, and I'm not hesitating to jump on that idea and kill it right away.

“I can't pay you.” I tell him quickly, trying to push aside the crippling embarrassment that just keeps getting worse. At first I was relieved when it seemed like help had come – but now my common sense is _finally_ catching up with me and I remember that these kind of good deeds aren't usually free.

“This thing's a goddamn death trap.” Jean snaps, and I fight hard not to recoil at his tone. It's pissy mixed with lecturing-father, and honestly kind of frightening. “So if you insist on carting _him_ around in it then I'm damn well gonna make sure it's safe whether you can afford it or not.”

Well. That makes me feel about two inches tall.

“And you.”

I may be sheepishly scratching the back of my head while I stare at the ground but I've no doubt that Jean's addressing Armin this time. When I glance up, I see Jean scowling at Armin who looks blankly back.

“You met this guy _yesterday_ and you just jump in his car and drive off? I don't know what dumb romantic shit was going through your head but -” He cuts himself off, his expression hardening when Armin sticks his tongue out. My first reaction is to laugh but the mood's so heavy between the three of us and I already want to shrivel up and die. Connie and Sasha are still happily arguing away so I guess it's still not too bad yet.

“He lives in his _car,_ Armin.”

I know this is new information to him, so I shoot Armin a quick look to gauge his reaction. He pulls a 'so what?' face and shrugs.

“Don't be so judgemental. Besides, I have my taser. And I've been in more dangerous situations before.”

The admission stuns me (shit, apparently he wasn't kidding about the taser), but not enough for me not to catch the odd look that flashes across Jean's face. He looks like he wants to say something but then his mouth clamps shut as he looks away, slamming the hood closed. The others have quietened now.  Crap.

Armin's the one with the hard expression now – arms folded tight across his chest and his mouth twisting in a way I don't like as much as before.

“Daz wasn't at class today.” He calls as Jean starts to walk away, and Jean pauses to look back at him.

“What do you mean he wasn't there?”

“As in he wasn't there.” Armin says. “He hasn't turned up in days.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm telling you now. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Connie and Sasha are real quiet now, exchanging worried looks as Jean's jaw tightens.

“I'll have Marco talk to him.” He says finally and Armin scoffs.

“Because that worked so well last time.” He says and this time Jean's fists clench.

He doesn't say anything though, turning his back and muttering that he'll be back with the truck to tow the car soon.

“Jean.” Armin calls softly, and he stops again to listen without turning around. “If this means what I think it means, then you're not doing your job.”

I watch Jean closely, baffled, but still looking at his back for any sign of a reaction.  But he only stands still for a few moments more before getting on his bike without another word and heading back the way we came.

I sigh like I've been holding my breath when he's out of earshot and Connie gives a low whistle.  "Wow.  Anyone else feel like they just witnessed their parents fight?  Haha-"

Yes, I think as Sasha punches Connie's arm hard to shut him up.  A quick glance at Armin tells me he's not in the mood to talk, arms still crossed and staring bitterly in the opposite direction of Trost.  Just as well, since I can't think of anything to say to him.

I ignore the others and lean back into the car, figuring I better tidy it up a little in case Jean turns out to be some kind of neat freak.  I unceremoniously stuff the hurriedly packed bags and scattered clothing into the trunk, brushing away various crumbs and general bits of crap onto the road.

"Don't litter."  Armin mutters, and I peek out at him to catch him looking at me but a little south of where he ought to be looking anatomy-wise.  I wiggle my butt a bit to let him know I've caught him and he glances away with a smile.  "So, you have a sister?"

"Yep."  I dig out a plastic bag and wave it at him before shoving the rubbish in it.  I'll recycle it later.  "You'd probably get on well with her.  You can watch her kill me when we get back to town if you like."

"I might protest a little if she does."

"Thanks."

I finish tidying up and get out of the car, grinning at him a little.  He grins back, but he doesn't say much else.  It's okay though, the other two aren't paying us much attention and I'm happy to bask in the sunlight and cooler temperature, thinking about Armin smiling at me and looking at my ass and not the fact that it's gonna get kicked when we get back to Trost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eren kind of breaks the fourth wall sometimes, but it's a fun way to write so i doubt i'll correct it if i catch him doing it again.
> 
> if you're wondering about what the radio's playing, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CmadmM5cOk). it's pretty much one of my favourite songs of all time and i almost never claim to have favourite songs or artists so it's kind of a big deal. the playlist i have for this fic is embarrassingly genre-varied though.

**Author's Note:**

> dumb? dumb.


End file.
